


frozen rivers

by Anonymous



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Snow Queen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:13:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "he's out there somewhere," joshua says.soonyoung stares at him, and this time joshua meets him eye for eye. he's golden in his own way- golden brown skin, golden brown hair, a face you don't see everyday. the quiet support, around when soonyoung wants him, there when soonyoung needs someone around. different from junhui, but fundamentally the same.maybe golden boys have to stick together. maybe golden boys have to stick to him.“we can look,” soonyoung says.





	1. alight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluedreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/gifts).



soonyoung was  _ made _ for summer. the hot days, sticky skin, cold tongues. ice cream truck cones and convenience store popsicle sticks, baseball caps and basketball shorts, blue blue skies and nights that stretch on forever. summer, was  _ made _ for him.

there's nothing quite like the itch under his skin when he's sliding quarters over the counter, 1.50 for a melona bar while junhui’s still by the cooler, trying to figure out if 3.75 for a drumstick is worth it. soonyoung could tell him it isn't, but there's better things to do.

junhui finally drops something on the counter, a yellow to match soonyoung’s green. grabbing a sour key, he hands over two dollars just as soonyoung opens the door, fingers brushing joshua hong’s shoulder as he enters.

junhui looks up at the bell, nods once at joshua letting his mouth quirk up into a smile. soonyoung leaves first, junhui shoving the rest of the sour key at his mouth, following behind.

“so,” junhui says, peeling the wrapper of his melona. “what're we gonna do?”

“i dunno,” soonyoung says, kicking the sidewalk. “maybe go to the kickfire tonight?”

“that's later,” junhui says. “what about now?”

“i dunno, maybe-” soonyoung stops short because he isn't sure himself what he wants.

“stalk around until we see joshua hong again?”

“no.” soonyoung's absolute in this; he has plans for joshua hong, seeing him at the convenience store wasn't one of them. pushing junhui to the corner, he says. “c’mon, my place. gotta give this bar to my sister.”

/

kickfire nights happen twice each summer, once at the middle of july and once at the end of august. they're community engagements almost, though mostly for the teenagers and even then, only  _ certain _ people get invited. 

invited isn't the right word, it's more like told. sidewalk conversations, text messages, whispers while sharing pot, someone tells someone and it goes. a couple days ago, kim jisoo texted joshua where and when; two weeks ago, wonwoo had whispered it to soonyoung in front of junhui. soonyoung told junhui later anyways, but that was a show of  _ something.  _ something soonyoung doesn't believe in at all, after all he was the one who'd told jisoo about it.

but the kickfire itself isn't bad, you don't get to commit arson unsupervised everyday and definitely not by kicking shit into gasoline soaked ground, set alight by a single matchstick. it's called  _ kick _ fire for a reason. and some lucky lod gets the honour of kicking the first can of gasoline down every year. 

unsurprisingly (to soonyoung, maybe), wonwoo kicks the can and junhui gets handed a match. they're kids, soonyoung can see the baby fat junhui’s never lost in his cheeks and wonwoo’s nose is the same as ever, they both hold themselves up the same way at seventeen as they had at seven. they're kids,  _ that's _ not the bad part. it's the grin on wonwoo’s face when he kicks the damn thing, it's junhui’s glee at throwing the matchstick- how both of them look seeing the wood shavings go up in flames. it's that they  _ like _ the destruction, the light in their eyes is reflected by the fire, the sparks going up; the fire always grows so fast- soonyoung's never understood it. they're kids but they still like  _ this, _ the wreckage of something so much. sometimes it bothers him.

but that's not what he's here for. he's for the boy sitting by a girl with a shock of bright red hair. he looks almost average next to her and her cut-up skirt, but soonyoung knows he's the prettier one. out of everyone, joshua hong is  _ always _ the prettiest.

it's a matter of technical truth and statistic. no one else believes it though. 

it doesn’t matter, jisoo shifts left on the picnic blanket and soonyoung sits, his knee brushing joshua’s hipbone makes joshua look up at him, offer a small smile. 

soonyoung smiles back.

the air cracks, loud -  jisoo flinches, instinctively moving closer to soonyoung. “don't like the fire?”

she shakes her head. “it's scary isn't it? like a wild beast, any second we could lose control of it and that'll be the end of this.”

“yeah,” soonyoung’s nodding, hand on hers holding tight. “one wrong move and it's over.”

“makes it sound like we're gonna die here,” jisoo says, looking up at sky- so deep that it's almost black, tiny white stars and bits of spark. “isn't that strange? it's like everyone here, all these kids- they wanna face death. dance with it. it’s like we’re inviting it to take us away.”

“i’m not,” soonyoung says.

jisoo looks at him. “you’re here.”

“not for the party though,” and he turns to look at joshua. joshua shifts in his seat, shoves his hands further into his pockets and stares at soonyoung’s shirt. all three of them are in black, jisoo in a crop top, soonyoung in a tshirt with a matching logo and joshua in a hoodie. it’s too warm for for a sweater, the same way it’s too dark to be wearing black- all of them blend in. “hey.”

joshua twists his mouth, it doesn’t count as a smile but soonyoung’s got a different standard. “i don’t think it’s about destruction.”

“what? the kickfire?” jisoo asks. “you might be a little wrong friend.”

“it could be. but doesn’t fire symbolize life? it’s creation isn’t it, a living thing kinda. like, it eats and grows and that’s what existence boils down, mostly.”

“not to be political, but that sounds awfully a lot like you believe in evolution.” soonyoung raises his eyebrows at joshua. he laughs, sound disrupted by the hand covering his mouth- but the little crinkles around his eyes are enough. 

“that’s different. i just think this night is about what’s keeping you alive, no matter what the parts- you get something beautiful in the end.”

“life out of wreckage? broken does not mean finished?” jisoo questions, a tricky smile playing on her face.

joshua shrugs. “if you want to be artistic.”

“you think this is nice?” soonyoung asks. he’s looking up, the smoke hazy under the stars. life in ashes. they both know what he means.

“i like warm things.” and this time, he looks at soonyoung. everything he wants to say clear in his eyes. 

soonyoung moves his hand off jisoo’s, body closer to joshua’s. “even if they burn?”

“you can’t hurt me.” it’s not a challenge; it’s an agreement. 

/

this is the nice part- jisoo leaves without a word, the picnic blanket in the corner of all movement only for them, they’re on the edge, quiet, alone and joshua kisses soonyoung like he means it. he kisses too well to have such a clean record but soonyoung pushes that thought away and kisses back- not hard, just enough like he means it. 

they move closer, knees knocking until joshua fixes it- shifting so he’s nearly on top of soonyoung, hand coming up to soonyoung’s hair, sweater sleeve brushing that back of neck, breaths mingling. his eyes look a lot brighter than soonyoung’s seen them be this whole night, and that- that’s the  _ good _ part.

so they kiss, two bodies too close hidden away in the dark of some party- it’s the same thing, just this isn’t a house and they aren’t in a closet. out in the open but not seen, it’s camouflage- pda: two boys making out, no one’s going to be looking at them. 

there’s no grabbing, biting, force- it’s in the middle of soft and rough. joshua tugs a little a his hair, and soonyoung reaches for his waist, squeezing his hip, holding him close. it’s a good kiss; joshua’s breaths come out shallow when they separate, soonyoung’s lip is red and puffy because joshua bit him at the last second, joshua’s smile has teeth in it- a small grin. kinda worth it.

joshua reaches down and links soonyoung’s fingers with his, eyes so fucking twinkly and bright they could be missing parts of the sky- soonyoung wants to kiss him again, but more- better, hotter, harder. 

joshua’s not looking at him though. he’s looking up, someone behind soonyoung- offering them one of those empty smiles, polite with nothing soonyoung saw in his teeth. “hey.”

“hello,” junhui’s sitting down beside him, smiling- waiting on a reply. but soonyoung’s watching joshua move, slowly like it’s only natural, further and further away until his hands are in his lap and no part of him is touching any part of soonyoung.

soonyoung doesn’t think about it. instead he slings an arm around junhui, leans against him. “hey.”

/

junhui goes missing and soonyoung doesn’t notice until jennie points it out. 

it’s hard to pay attention to everything when joshua’s so- he’s got a haircut, a shorter cut, less out of his face and more brown, more wavy, more beach, more tan, more summer, and he’s in jeans that have more rips than any of jisoo’s skirts, his eyes are lined with something smokey, shimmery gold in the middle and - and soonyoung  _ knows _ the whole getup is on jisoo but seriously, joshua moves like it’s any other day, like it’s a normal state of dress.

like soonyoung hasn’t been spending the whole night just  _ wanting.  _ joshua, that’s what’s on his mind- not the end of summer, not the fire, not jisoo holding onto jennie’s arm, kissing her, showing off what she’s got in petty revenge for making her third-wheel the last time around.

he notices- he just  _ doesn’t  _ care. joshua  _ looks _ more important. like he’s worth the attention of the goddamn whole world and not the passovers everyone gives him. that’s what soonyoung thinks anyways.

“maybe everyone else doesn’t see him the way you do,” jennie offers while they’re waiting for jisoo and joshua to get back with appetizers. “different views, different perspectives. he doesn’t stand out unless you look.”

she laughs at the frown on soonyoung’s face. really, it’s not about joshua not-standing out, it’s that there’s so many people everyone passes by that have important stories and something that makes them important enough to stand out. soonyoung only likes joshua for his face; he cares because someone  _ should. _

“he deserves to,” soonyoung says, and it ends there. “how’d jisoo get you?”

jennie starts laughing, shakes her head. “you don’t wanna know. she’s weird and it’s a weird story.”

“i like weird. you’re weird too.” 

jennie kicks his foot lightly, and looks the other way as she talks. 

/

they get through three stories about jisoo and her ambushes on jennie but even after six rounds of i spy and ten more minutes of waiting, jisoo and joshua don’t show up. there’s no signal in the woods and soonyoung’s phone is dead anyways but jennie tries calling a couple times, in vain. so, for the most part- they’re the ditched.

jennie eventually stands up, brushes the dirt off her jeans and holds out a hand for soonyoung. they walk back to fire together, the closer they get, the thicker the air is- everything’s hazier, hotter. there’s something prickling up spine, sweat down his neck and jennie grabs onto his wrist; their discomfort is shared. 

there’s kids still kicking around, but not as much as there should be. the fire’s blazing, but it’s smaller than it should be. there’s noise, but it’s muted- not as loud as it should be. 

/

somewhere, in a crowd of people gathered around the food, they find jisoo. joshua’s only a couple steps behind, holding two plates and frowning. 

jennie takes one from him, takes a french fry for herself and feeds soonyoung one while jisoo looks around, nowhere near as calm how she was before. her foot’s tapping, and she’s not talking.  
“junhui disappeared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything abt joshua in this is very self-indulgent, if ya couldn't tell, yanno.


	2. worship

when they were kids, they used to live on the same floor. separated by complaints from neighbors about too much noise in the hallways and balcony filled with flower boxes of tenderly cared for roses, junhui and he used to yell games of i spy to each other when they weren't allowed to go out, moms too busy with something or the other. 

it's five a.m and in the woods, he finds a rose bush. it feels like a sign; it reminds him of junhui, of back when they were kids, of having his back. soonyoung wants to touch it.

it's covered in thorns, the dead light of morning makes the pale pink of the petals look lifeless and soonyoung wants to see how they'd look dressed in red, if that'd add any colour to them. if life would travel from one form to another, blood to roses. 

he doesn't go near it, stays five feet away and feels regret. junhui, wen junhui, junhui, junhui, junhui who is not here. who has been replaced by a wild rose bush. 

soonyoung leaves it, treks his way back home and thinks about what it'd feel like to grab one of the roses. the cuts through flesh, the sticky wetness of blood running down his hands. right now, he deserves that pain. but not the satisfaction.

wen junhui disappeared a little over five hours ago. 

/

on a sunday- the last before school starts, joshua finds him in the lobby of his apartment building. 

“have you talked to junhui’s mom?” joshua asks guessing soonyoung's reason for being here. because it's never been joshua. 

he's right. soonyoung had wanted to talk to wen jie but he hasn't gone up to the twelfth floor, hasn't knocked on door fifteen, hasn't begged for forgiveness yet even though she'd give it.

mostly, he's been waiting for a reason not to.

“do you want to come to church with me?” joshua ventures, this time soonyoung answers.

the walk’s not far, two blocks down the opposite way of school, and one turn and a block later, they're there.

it's not a building that stands out, brown and brick with a curved roof, a simple white cross in the center as it's only embellishment. soonyoung doesn't think much of it, but he can appreciate the simplicity. it doesn't scream god, only quietly announces itself as a place of worship. the sign in front says “for he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.'

joshua looks from him to the sign and back. “if you believe it, there’s a comfort in knowing that junhui is being protected by something.”

“what makes you think i don't believe in him?” soonyoung asks, a twist of words out of the blue. 

joshua pauses as soonyoung pulls the door too hard; he doesn't miss the slight frown on joshua’s lips before he enters, quietly thanking soonyoung.

“you don't seem like it,” is what joshua offers. he sounds -

soonyoung looks at him, matching the frown he'd gotten. joshua looks down to the ground, stone and they stay quiet. soonyoung follows him to a pew, somewhere middle left and they wait. in the next ten minutes, people stream in- not enough for a crowd, but a decent enough so the church looks somewhat filled. the serum starts.

soonyoung thinks about joshua. because that was the point of dragging him here- joshua’s not as dumb as he makes himself seem, soonyoung’s not gonna see a church sign and hope for the best, he's not gonna listen to someone drone on about god always supporting you and pray for the best for junhui- he's here so he doesn't have to think about junhui.

like joshua curling his fingers around soonyoung’s while they scoured the woods, it's a  _ distraction.  _

so soonyoung thinks about him. his wide eyes, the brown hair, tan skin- joshua’s doesn't make you think gold like junhui’s. he's got piercings but nothing in them, there's a cross in his auricle and a tiny imitation diamond just by the fold of his ear and those  _ must've _ hurt. joshua shifts, eyes moving from the front to the left- opposite of where soonyoung is. 

he stops looking and listens. 

/

they walk back together, soonyoung walks him into the lobby and joshua presses the button to hold the elevator doors open until soonyoung gets in. he's expecting an invitation up, to hang out maybe- but joshua presses the button for twelve and the button for sixteen and doesn't get out when the doors open on junhui’s floor.

soonyoung gets a wave in return to his, but nothing else. it's expected.

wang jie welcomes him in and makes him tea, both of them try to not cry but soonyoung’s shitty at that. it's been three days and junhui still hasn't been home and it’s  _ everywhere _ in the house if you look. 

the shoe rack with the white adidas on the bottom shelf, the sweater no one’s moved off the dining room chair yet. the tv channel playing the news and not the cartoon channel junhui watches with his brother on sundays. 

fengjun’s still asleep, and soonyoung listens to how the kid hasn't stop crying for the past two days because he wants his brother.

soonyoung might relate. 

(he feels so goddamn guilty- this is his fault, the state of distress in an apartment that's usually so clean, fengjun yelling and crying when he's usually so calm, the most well-behaved son on the planet who's not home just because soonyoung wasn't paying attention. his fault.)

he apologies as many times as he can when they finally talk about  _ it,  _ the party, the kickfire. jie only puts down her cup and nods.

“i know kids and parties. there's a lot of people, a lot of excitement. you can lose someone in the crowd easily, it wasn't your fault. these kinds of things can happen to anyone.”

it's not a complete denial of his involvement, and soonyoung can read the slight bitter undertone to her voice, it's the same the the slight bitterness of the tea- he could've done more for her son. they both wish that. but she forgives him for it, sharp and affectionately as always. 

he nods into his tea.

it's around three when jie gets a phone call, soonyoung’s building blocks with fengjun so he misses most of it. but here's what he does catch,  _ “miss, your son has officially been listed as a missing persons.” _

figures.

/

the day school starts, soonyoung forgets his best friend’s gone.

he's left on the street, wondering if junhui started walking without him.

it still doesn't hit him when he sees jennie walk with joshua, six steps in front of him. he doesn't call out to them, but he thinks he’s missing something.

it's thursday morning, the air is  _ almost  _ cold, like a promise for fall to come. soonyoung walks to school alone.

/

it's what they say that gets to him.

they use the term “gone missing,” as if junhui’s just an object that's been misplaced. it's what gets written on the police report, with blocky letters and black pen. it's what gets filtered through over the p.a, the principal telling everyone to stay safe, don't fret he'll be back soon. it's what dara says to him over the counter when he just wants change for his ten bucks. 

but junhui’s not  _ lost.  _ he's gone. he disappeared. it's like a magic trick, one moment here, the next gone.

one moment soonyoung looks out to the crowd and sees a familiar blonde head, eyebrows raised, walking towards them. in the next jisoo’s stealing his drink out of his hand and joshua’s taking a sip- his lips meeting the exact place soonyoung’s had and when he turns back around, junhui’s gone. but joshua’s smiling at him like  _ that, _ and soonyoung’s too torn over wanting to kiss him and wanting to shove him away to care.

junhui was here. now he's not.

and as much as soonyoung wants to believe it- he's not coming back.

/

joshua thinks otherwise,  _ strongly. _ “you can't write him off like that.”

“can't?” soonyoung questions. he doesn't want joshua around, he wants joshua to leave him alone.

“ _ shouldn't, _ ” joshua corrects. but damn, is he persistent. he finds soonyoung at lunch, sitting on a stone bench outside, hands shoved into pockets staring at the leaves scraping across the concrete. takes a seat across from him, like every one of soonyoung’s friends don't know he wants to be left alone.

“why not? so i can be hung up over someone who's probably dead and waste my life wishing i did something more? it's better to accept and move on. he's gone and he won't come back.”

joshua’s mouth is set into a line. he's not much of a fighter, too much of a pushover, peacemaker for that. instead, the fight goes out of his shoulders. “if that's what you want to do. but you shouldn't be alone.”

“i wouldn't be.” and that's enough to make joshua scowl properly, face heating up because the  _ your fault _ is written all over how soonyoung is looking at him, is treating him. 

he stays. it's too cold to be sitting, the sky’s too grey, too bleak to make the scenery worth it. the company’s even worse. but joshua stays. with his white knuckles and red ears, grey jacket and holey jeans. 

and it takes a while, but he says. “it's not acceptance if you blame someone else. not the right kind anyways.”

/

soonyoung ignores the texts, the additions to group chats and the questions about how to do number three from page 226. he reads the entire facebook page on finding junhui, every word that's been posted even though half of it is bullshit posts about wishing the best for him and praying for a safe return. he sits at the front for all of his classes, corner by the door and  _ knows _ he can't talk with anyone from that spot. but he puts up missing posters for anyone who asks him and comes half an hour early to school to check up on the memorial for junhui, reads any new notes that have been posted.

he’s  _ dealing.  _

his best friend is fucking gone and soonyoung’s dealing. because life’s always shitty like that, moving along even though half the roads are blocked. time passes by and there's group projects and school assignments and homework and shit to do- and everything keeps happening even though junhui should be here and he's  _ not. _

it should be unfair, half the time soonyoung wants to punch something, rip his textbooks to shreds, runaway for himself- but life’s shitty. something can't be unfair if it’s unchangeable, if it happens to everyone. then it’s just a disappointing state of existence then. 

loss isn't something you can change, your best bet’s hoping it doesn't screw you up.

/

joshua calls out to him after school- it's a friday and soonyoung turns to the boy two steps behind him; there's a look in his eyes that makes soonyoung regret the scowl on his face. but joshua hong’s not a scaredy cat, and he takes the two steps to come stand beside soonyoung.

“come to church with me,” joshua says, voice quiet but persistent. 

soonyoung doesn't answer, walks forward. but joshua grabs his wrist, tugs on it and leads him a different way.

his sleeves are pulled over his knuckles, clean white underneath worn black, and his summertime tan’s nowhere near gone, skin still a pretty shade of light brown. yet, it's the absence of gloves that makes soonyoung itch with a want, he's got a hand in his pocket ready to pull out the pair of mittens he's got inside.

but joshua doesn't say anything about the cold, he's still not wearing a hat, but the fingers gripping soonyoung’s hand are  _ freezing. _

soonyoung asks him. and he gets a tiny smile in return. and a “i have gloves in my pocket.”

“and what about a hat?”

“i’m gonna get a cold anyways,” joshua answers. “should i really be trying to delay the inevitable?”

soonyoung smiles at him. “of course joshua hong would be a sickly person.”

soonyoung remembers this road, there's one more block right until they arrive. joshua laughs maybe, it’s hard to tell with him facing forward. but his fingers drop from soonyoung’s wrist to his hand, and soonyoung holds onto him, the way junhui used when soonyoung used to kill the blood flow to his fingers during horror movies. light enough to be a steady reminder, not close enough to feel any warmth.

the wind could blow them apart and soonyoung wouldn't mind.

this time, joshua leads him straight down a hall, past the pews and right to a community bulletin board.

he lets go of soonyoung’s hand. “here.”

“what's here?” but he's already seen it, the corner dedicated for news about junhui. numbers for helplines, information on where he was last seen, a grey post it in blue pen- three words   _ down the bridge. _

“do you want to go?” joshua asks, lip between teeth. 

soonyoung wants to shake his head,  _ no. _ it's been four weeks, junhui’s as gone as it gets. dead in a ditch somewhere, maybe. not waiting for soonyoung to read a grey note and find him.

“have faith in him,” joshua says, soonyoung looks at him. “he's out there somewhere.”

for the first time, soonyoung questions why he  _ cares. _ he can't remember the two of them even talking. other than soonyoung’s half-assed crush for him, junhui’s never mentioned joshua. and before this point, joshua's never really been invested junhui. joshua’s never really been invested in soonyoung either.

soonyoung keeps staring, and this time joshua meets him eye for eye. he's golden in his own way- golden brown skin, golden brown hair, a face you don't see everyday. the quiet support, around when soonyoung wants him, there when soonyoung needs someone around. different from junhui, but fundamentally the same. 

maybe golden boys have to stick together. maybe golden boys have to stick to him.

“we can look,” soonyoung says.

/

their neighborhood is in the corner of the city, there's a bridge leading out to the rest of it but no one really uses it. people rarely come and go. 

so when they get there, backs still filled with textbooks, sky the shade of grey it never loses during the cold months, all clouds but no rain- there's no one around save for a passing car.

they make it to the middle of the bridge and soonyoung looks down at the river flowing underneath it. it's a dull blue, and it moves fast. the rush is loud, and the spray's cold which makes soonyoung think the bridge's too low if he can feel it, but maybe that doesn't matter right now.

“do you know where junhui is?” he asks it. there's no answer. “wen junhui, sixteen years old, chinese and fluent in three languages.”

no answer.

“tall, good-looking, blonde hair. straight teeth, golden skin and the straightest nose you’ll see on someone who’s that bent.”

no answer.

it's starting to rain down on them and soonyoung’s hands are  _ freezing _ on the rails. he takes out his mittens.

the river stops.

the ran falls harder, faster- hitting the surface, making it ring. he turns to joshua, joshua looks back at him, wide-eyed.

“throw it your mittens,” he says and soonyoung wants to protest that his fingers are too stiff, too cold but he does. 

one piece of red disappears after the other, and the river starts hitting the north bank, the rain doesn't let up. but it's clear where they’re supposed to go. cross the bridge, go into the city. 

before anything else though- soonyoung says. “how'd you know that? to throw the mittens in?”

“oh,” it's not the question he'd expected, but he tries his best to answer still. “um, i read a lot when i was younger and in the story books, you always have to um, trade something to get knowledge.”

then,

“will you come with me?” soonyoung asks joshua. he's not sure if he needs to.

joshua holds out a pair of black gloves to him. “sure. we're gonna need these.”

/

their jackets don't help them from getting soaked, but by the time they make it to the other end, the rain's mostly let up and the chill’s barely around.

it's around four o’clock and between them, they have $18.35, a pair of gloves and three textbooks.

“do you think we can sell them for fifty each?”

joshua looks at the chemistry eleven book in his hands, then at soonyoung. “i was thinking about doing my homework on the bus though.” a pause, soonyoung’s waiting for him to explain. “if we take the plaza system, we can get halfway across the city then get a transfer for one that'll take us the rest of the way. it’ll be four dollars.”

“no one’s gonna buy a textbook are they?”

“yeah.”

so they walk until they reach a bus stop;  the next one comes at 4:39 and soonyoung spends his time staring at the buildings while joshua tries to use the twenty percent of his battery he has remaining by beating the level he's stuck on in candy crush.

eventually soonyoung comes to the conclusion that everything is grey and square, blocks after blocks of the same buildings dotted with black windows. joshua loses all his lives and takes a picture of how the light hits the wet pavement, and finally their bus comes.

soonyoung shares a bud with joshua and they listen to junhui’s canto-pop playlist while moving through the city. it's the one thing that's never left soonyoung's bag since he disappeared- an old ipod of junhui that he left at soonyoung's place once and never took back. every song is years old, and soonyoung doesn't catch most of the words but there's a comforting weight to the music. it's a reminder of junhui, a good one.

soonyoung leans his head on joshua's shoulder keeping his eyes closed, while the other, as promised, does do his chemistry work. it's a mess of numbers and letters, but just before their last stop soonyoung points out that one of his two’s should be a six.

soonyoung stretches when he gets off, joshua thanks the driver. it's six p.m and the next bus they're supposed to catch comes at 6:03. they show off their transfers and this time, joshua sleeps on soonyoung's shoulder while he looks out the window. white earbuds still shared between them.

/

eventually, they find a place. 

the bus drops them off in front of a cinderblock apartment complex, and soonyoung just has a feeling about it. joshua frowns when he moves forward, but follows.

there's no one at the front desk, but there is a bell. soonyoung rings it.

it takes a few minutes but footsteps sound, and in front of them a woman shows up- it's her dress soonyoung looks at first, waves leading into sunflowers, almost too extravagant for the plain building, plain lobby but somehow she looks like she belongs.

then he notices  _ her, _ she's beautiful. older than both of them, with a face that doesn't reveal it, he's kinda in awe.

joshua isn't. but neither of them speak.

“may i help you?” she asks, smoothing out her dress. the smile on her face looks like a mask.

“uh, we were wondering if you'd seen our friend around?” soonyoung's fumbling over his words, but he can't help it. the lobby’s changing with every second she stays in it- the walls are going from a plain brown to engraved gold wallpaper, the tiling is different- cleaner, whiter. the carpet’s not the plain grey anymore, now it's a scene of the sea- boats of people  _ moving _ through it. there's green monsters attacking ships and sailors in red throwing arrows.

the lights above them just went from plain fluorescent bulbs to a chandelier made of crystal. what the _ fuck. _

“hm?” she prompts, like everything around them isn't going crazy.

“um,” soonyoung slings his backpack of his shoulders and grabs his phone from the front pocket. pulls up the photo gallery. “here, this is him.”

it's just a picture of junhui tying his shoes, not from a nice angle or with good lighting, but she brightens immediately. 

“ah! golden boy!” she exclaims, bringing her hands together, rings and bracelets clinging. “yes, he has been through here. would you like to see his apartment?”

both of them nod.

she leads them up a flight of stairs, nevermind the elevator. soonyoung swears they've only gone up one flight, but it says the floor number five.

“he didn't stay for too long, five days at the most.” walking down the hallway, she stops at apartment number 18. “but no one’s stayed here since. he was quite a lovely person...”

soonyoung pushes open the door, not bothering with the rest of her words. the apartment's empty. no sign of anything anywhere. 

“is this all?” joshua asks for him.

she frowns. “i’m afraid most patrons don't leave much behind. though, i’m sure one of the neighbors could help you out if you have any more questions. you'd have to stay the night though, eunji doesn't get back until morning.”

“yeah,” soonyoung breathes out. “we can do that.”

she smiles. “wonderful. may i have your named for the register?”

“soonyoung, and this is joshua.” 

“i’m pleased to meet you, my name is bingbing and i am the owner of this complex.”

she leaves them with a key on the mantle, and joshua locks the door behind her.

soonyoung dumps his stuff on the floor and makes a run for the bedroom. it's a while before joshua follows, only to find one bed. he looks at soonyoung spread out on the sheets, shoes and jacket thrown on the floor, wet jeans sticking to his skin. it's only 8:43, but he doesn't think twice about crawling into the space beside soonyoung, breathing evening out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

/

in the morning, soonyoung doesn't remember junhui.

joshua stares at him for a good twenty minutes, words stuck in his throat- unsure of what he wants to say. in the end, he settles for not saying anything at all and thinks about how soonyoung said ‘good morning, baby’ and greeted him with a kiss.

soonyoung spends the morning singing along to rania and shinee, moving furniture here and there, cleaning up the place and joshua wonders what junhui’s ipod means to him now. why there's couches in the apartment now, where the table came from, the chairs, the new clothes.

he spends the morning on google maps, when find your location doesn't work, he goes on street view, trying to recreate their tracks and figure out where they are. but maybe the bus stop was further away from this apartment complex than they thought, because while it does stop in front of a residential area- joshua has no idea what their building is.

“hey,” joshua says, voice soft as always when soonyoung enters the room with a broom. he doesn't sound worried at all. “do you remember the building number?”

“no,” soonyoung says, shaking his head. “ask downstairs maybe?”

“yeah, i’ll do that. um, lock the door.”

soonyoung nods and joshua leaves. the hallway feels too cold, like his hoodie and socks aren't warm enough for it. there's a draft coming from somewhere but both ends of the corridor are dark and he's not feeling brave enough to try. he pushes the button for the elevator and looks down at his feet. 

the carpet is green today, some sort of maze pattern and joshua swears he can feel twigs poking his feet. he lifts one up, nothing. the sensation doesn't go away and the lights feel like they're getting dimmer and dimmer. he doesn't like it.

there's an electric pricking up his arms and he rubs at them to make it go away. when he lets go the elevator dings, and the hallway gets brighter again. the carpet goes back to being carpet.

he breathes out. 

presses for the lobby and waits as it takes him down. thankfully, there's nothing weird about the elevator.

there's a single green chrysanthemum waiting in front of the elevator for him, he looks to his left. bingbing curves her lips up once, then turns away and walks down the hall, dress trailing after her.

joshua picks up the flower and follows her. the walls are blue today, olive hummingbirds jumping from branch to branch, chirping as he moves past them.

a door at the end of the hall is open, and he walks in, lowering his head when he sees her.

she's in pink today, green chrysanthemums lining the top and bottom of her dress, hummingbirds printed all over.

“how may i help you?” she asks, smiling beautifully.

maybe if he liked girls, he'd be more captivated by it. instead, he shifts around looking at the walls change from grey to soft pink of her dress. he's not imagining the branches growing from the ceiling.

he looks away. “did junhui really come here?”

she nods. “yes he did.”

“then,” he doesn't know how to say this. “why doesn't soonyoung remember him?”

“this,” she says, every bit as careful with her words. “is not a place for sorrow. if he remembers he will no longer be happy.”

“does that mean junhui’s gone?” he asks, something pokes at him to take a seat so he does.

“he's not dead, no,” she says, waving a hand over the pencil holder. one by one they turn into chrysanthemums, petals dropping off as fast as they grow. “but it will be very difficult to follow him.”

“but there's a chance we can find him?”

she nods.

“so, how can i make him remember?”

she taps her fingers against the desk, the metal becomes wood, the surface turns into a mess of branches. plucking a bud from the end of one, she says. “you could plant roses.” the bud becomes a flower in her hand, delicate, pink. “but roses don't grow here.”

“you make everything grow.”

she smiles, and this time he feels his heart sink. “but i forbid you from growing them.”

this time, the wallpaper turns plain when he walks by, birds fading into nothing at his sight.

someone else enters the elevator behind him and when he turns to her, she smiles at him.

“are you my new neighbor by any chance?” she asks. there's an easy melodic tone to her voice, she makes it sound like everything is worth something. like there's something to appreciate in having a teenager next door.

he likes her immediately. “yes.”

“ah good. i heard from bingbing that you wanted to ask me something?” the elevator stops on their floor, she nods at him. “come to my place, i’ll answer any questions you have.”

she turns again, and smiles at him again. “i’m eunji, by the way.”

/

“ahhh, moon junhwe. i know who you mean,” she says. “tall, right? he was a good kid.” 

her apartment’s pretty, filled with flowers and plants but otherwise uncrowded. it has a more subtle touch of life, nurtured and natural.

“yeah, that's him,” joshua says. “do you know anything about where he went or...?”

“ah, that.” her smile is too bright for her tone, but it's sheepish in a way. “well, honestly i wouldn't know but you can come by to my flower shop, if you'd like and ask the customers.”

he nods at that. “okay. thank you.”

“he's not your friend, is he?” eunji asks. “stay for a bit, i’ll make you tea.”

so he does. watches her boil water and sprinkle in dried leaves, pick a flower from a plant, a spoonful of honey from a bottle. she hums while she works, steps light, movements graceful. smile, ever present.

“so? my question?” she prompts, as she measures out milk and cream.

“um, not really. he's the best friend of my - friend?” joshua answers, knowing it sounds more like a question.

she raises her eyebrows at him. “friend?”

“i’m- i don't know,” is the most he can offer. “we kissed, that's it really.”

“so, not friends?” she asks, leaving the pot be.

“no sugar in the tea?” he asks because he's distracted by that. “and, um. not really.”

her smile changes into something more proud. “trust me, it tastes better without it.”

maybe it does, but she only laughs when joshua pours half the bottle of honey into his tea. 

“should've expected you have a sweet tooth,” she says. “with a face like that and all.”

“thank you,” joshua says, someone else said the same thing to him once. only kissed him stupid when he didn't get it, and explained when they thought he was asleep. “do you have roses in your shop?”

“sorry kid, they don't grow well this time of year.” she frowns into her tea. then brightens. “but, there's plenty of other things. i can show you if you like, you've got the time right?”

“i can’t leave him here.” there's supposed to be a question in that somewhere, but he knows the answer to it already.

she smiles at him, something really soft this time. “have faith in him. one day he's going to wake up and remember and then you two can go have your adventure to find your golden boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhh

**Author's Note:**

> i tried writing five different fics for you with no end, this was the first.


End file.
